What Turns the Key
by Sweswe
Summary: The Hero of Time is struggling against an unknown darkness, ending up isolating himself from his friends. The one it affects the most is his princess, who is thrown into inner turmoil by politics clashing with her own feelings.
1. Prologue

_**What Turns the Key**_

-**o-**

_**Prologue**_

* * *

"Brother, how long must we stay here?"

The question seemed to dissolve into the darkness of the cylindrical room. There was no furniture or any windows. The massive doors could hardly be distinguished. Even though the floor was as black as the walls, the pattern of the bricks they consisted of invisible, its perfect surface reflected a mirror image of everything walking upon it. It created an illusion where the room expanded into infinity, like a dark haven beyond time and space. The only object inside the room was a crystal ball on a tall pedestal and its faint lilac glow was the one thing that gave off an impression of being somewhere rather than nowhere. Dim though it was, the light fell on the woman who had gathered her courage to speak. It caressed the contours of her small heart-shaped face and emphasized its pallor.

She was not necessarily beautiful. With her pinched looks, the tight black dress made her look stiff and the indifferent eyes and colorless lips strengthened the dullness about her. The garment was slit in the front, revealing two white spidery legs. Her raven black curls of hair were forcefully restrained into two low twin tails. It was a childish hairstyle that looked quite unsuited for someone like her.

"There are only small rural villages nearby. It would not be profitable to attack them, but if they are distressed by our presence they might seek help and cause a confrontation sooner than we would like," the woman said.

"Ann-Louise," a man's deep voice replied. "Their insignificance is the very thing that will allow us to bide our time."

"Magnus, don't be difficult."

The man she observed across from her was peculiar in many ways, even to her who understood him better than anyone. Except for the short hair that was of the same quality as hers they were each other's opposites in many ways.

Her brother was the one with the vision, something to live and strive for, hence his dark eyes were not near as indifferent as hers. Unlike the small creature that she was, he was remarkably large. Remarkable, because his clothing was the typical garb worn by practicers of magic and the majority of them preferred to resort to books and were seldom the size of a fighter whereas he carried the dignified stature of a jarl. Magic might have played a part because it was hard to tell how old the two were. He was not young but the clean-shaved face and few wrinkles made him appear as such. She on the other hand only looked older in her attempt to bring out her youth. That the siblings had a fetish for black was apparent. Whatever past they had been through, after every wicked whim of fate they had put behind them with life intact, light had turned bleak long ago, although uncertain how long ago, while the emptiness of the night had become a comforting presence.

The man called Magnus smirked at the crystal ball and its weak light struggling against the darkness that was crawling over his back.

"Sister, can you imagine the feeling of holding the world in the palm of your hand?"

* * *

There was only one world. It was far greater than the comprehension of it and far too wide to be extended with other dimensions. Perhaps there existed strange phenomenons such as time lapses or rips in the laws that weaved together the seams of this limitless world, and maybe there were even things so unknown they would never receive a name in any language. There was still only one world.

In spite of this overwhelming space, people's roads would eventually, and inevitably, cross. That was the natural course of life. The different lifeforms of the world all progressed at their own pace, reaching out until planets were not a very far distance from each other and the universe no longer was as lonely a place as it had once been.

One planet in particular stood out amongst the others. Because it was the home of many who had not yet lifted from the ground it had become a gathering place for those who could. That was why it had for as long as people could remember been considered the kernel of the world and the home of the great metropolis Magnavox.

Since magic existed, in many forms, and there were those who could use it and those who could not, because there were animals that could talk and those that could not, and as there were those who were good and those who were not, there was not a lot that could be regarded as strange. When a huge black castle suddenly showed up, without anyone being able to recall that such a thing had been build, no one paid it much attention. Of course it was strange that they should not have noticed the construction in the middle of an open field, but who really cared enough about that old field to take a good look often enough? No one could know that there inside that castle was a room where a brother and his younger sister were discussing the fate of the world.

* * *

"Brother, the world is bigger than this earth and this sky."

"I'm aware."

"The world is infinite. Since when has the sensible you been this obsessed with controlling it? What will you do with such power?" Ann-Louise trailed off, her frown giving away for a somewhat softer expression. "It is not that I care what you decide to do. Forgive me, but I cannot see any motive why ruling the world should be of any interest to you. You have always been absorbed by your own abilities and that has up until now been enough."

"You who love the abstract will never be able to see the charm of the concrete reality."

"True, it is merely a giant boring mass of grey to me. It is dead and will exist far longer than any of us so why bother to gather it in your palm when your hand shall be erased in a breath's time in comparison to when the final moment of the world will arrive?"

"It is not that I specifically want it."

His large hand moved collaterally over the surface of the crystal ball without touching it. The light poured through the spaces between his long controlled fingers and inside the mist of the ball a neat web was being spun. The strings were even finer than the spider's threads and Ann-Louise enjoyed their subtle beauty. It was during her close observation of them that she noticed the small figures that tied the many strings together and created the unity. They were barely distinguishable, insignificantly small in contrast to the web as a whole, but you could, if you looked carefully enough, see that they were miniatures of living creatures.

"No man is an island," Magnus said and closed his eyes.

"Unlike an island, cut off and isolated to complete loneliness by the vast ocean, a human will always be tied to another in one way or another," Ann-Louise said, in order to make it clear that she had understood him.

"Yes, well, can you then imagine what these attachments would bring about if someone was to suddenly disappear?"

With the snap of his fingers one little creature burst into a cloud of dust and the threads connected to it wrung about like agonizing snakes. The desperate moments spread until the nearest creatures on the other ends met the same fate. This went on until the wakes of the sudden disappearance left the remaining creatures unaffected.

"People die all the time," Ann-Louise said and arched a slim eyebrow.

"Of course, you should not take it literally," Magnus said. "Now, what I was getting to was the fact that there exist certain key persons."

"Move on."

"By removing the right pieces..."

He snapped his fingers again and immediately a number of people disappeared from the web. The way the threads crawled around one almost expected them to make shrieking noises of pain and at a fearsome speed the web begun to dissolve and every creature crumble into nonexistence.

"They will all go to rack and ruin like a house of cards," Magnus finished.

"And you strive to ruin the world?"

His deep laugh was unconcerned, as if she humored him. "No, I was merely trying to make my motives clear. Dear sister, I have the ability to see what creates the sensitive balance of the world. It is like a board has been set up before me and I have been given the outcome of the game before it has even started."

She recognized the look of eager. Optimism was something that she disliked very much because it brought a light to the eye that she only wished to stifle, but when taking over her darling brother's gaze it would not do for her to complain.

"I know exactly which pieces I need to end up victorious. Everyday I witness how to proceed, which move to make, and yet I do nothing. I alone can unlock the door to power out of this world and you think that I should turn away from it? Think that this is a door that none but I have laid eyes upon."

"Magnus..."

"Think that I know exactly what foes to remove from their side to fatally affect them and I know where to find the key that controls the outcome."

He upturned his palm and a figure took form in it. Ann-Louise bent forward, careful not to brush against the precious crystal ball and watched the little creature in her brother's hand. A young man adjusted his belt and gazed up at her. He was transparent, looking holographic like the others figures, but his eyes struck her as real. They were such a clear blue. Unruly blond bangs fell over them that he brushed aside with a smile. The long pointy ears gave him an exotic look that went well with the sharp facial features. The brown leather boots looked worn out and heavy and the simple green tunic made him out to be nothing above the ordinary. When looking at him, she could not help but to feel that there was something naïve about him. This in spite of sensing that the sword hanging across his back, underneath a large shield, must have been colored red a thousand times.

"We cannot lose," her brother whispered.

* * *

A/N

This story was something I thought up when SSBM came around, meaning I was around twelve or thirteen years old. I finally decided to give it a shot to get it out of my head by writing down the words. Of course, it still has a rather childish and mediocre plot. I am aware that I have just written a whole prologue about two stereotypical villains with vague-to-no personality that plan to take over the world just because they can (wow...). Well, I do not want them to take the spotlight from the Smashers so you will not be seeing a lot of them. It will be enough to jump to the next chapter and they will be gone.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope that I have not scared you away with the uneventful prologue and its lack of characters.


	2. The Princess of Destiny

_**Chapter 1 **_

-**o-**

_**The Princess of Destiny **_

* * *

There was nothing like a good book when one felt the need to take the mind off troublesome matters. Princess Zelda knew of no better method to help her deal with dilemmas that made it feel as if there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and it was quite a pleasant pastime as well.

The young woman had slipped out of her high-heeled shoes to avoid dirtying the couch when she lay down as had it been a chaise longue. It was not often one was lucky enough to have the couch all to oneself when living in a house of twenty-seven. They all had their own bedrooms but it still imposed on the privacy of many that everything else had to be shared. Zelda did not mind much because her only family was her father and she loved to be surrounded by the sounds of her lively friends. In comparison to an eerie and empty castle this was what she had always imagined family life to be like. The people she had left behind in Hyrule she missed immensely of course but it was seldom that she felt homesick despite being miles away from her homeland.

"Zelda, can't you make them stop?"

Zelda looked up from the book to find Peach, one of the few other women in the house, hanging with crossed arms over the backrest of the couch. Often it was a blessing to be able to shut out noise and be detached from reality but the downside was that once one had to wake up the pandemonium hit with multiplied strength. Zelda pressed a finger to her temple and hoped to adjust to the battlefield that was their living room. Everything was a mess, everybody shouted out loud instead of sparing each other's ears and ran around like dizzy hens. If she had wanted some peace and quiet she sure could have picked a better place. That aside, she had no clue whatsoever what she was intended to put an end to. Not the chaos?

"I am reading," Zelda excused herself and smiled at Peach.

Her friend, also a princess, pushed her crown a bit higher on her head with a neat index finger covered by a long white glove. Her two huge turquoise eyes peered at Zelda with a gaze that was intensified tenfold by the contrast to the lifeless round earrings of the same color.

"You can't fool me. Your eyes weren't moving. I know that you were just spacing out like you always do."

The thing about Peach was that her bubbly personality would often have one fooled that not much other than shopping, baking and singing were going on inside her head. She curled a lock of sunny blonde hair around her finger before she untangled it and pointed with her thumb to her left.

"Link and Marth are at it again."

Zelda looked over to where she was pointing and, indeed, two of her closest male friends were in an argument that threatened to escalate into a real brawl. She sighed, because this was basically what she had needed the book for and it was also such a common occasion that it was beginning to tear on her patience. It was also a burden because no matter how little she had to do with their bickering it often ended with her being forced to pick sides. If she was allowed to be a bit spoilt she would say that being a princess put one in difficult situations often enough without one's friends having to do the same thing.

"They are both grown men. They can probably solve it just fine by themselves," Zelda said and plunged into her book before Peach could object.

"Oh, they cannot!" Peach cried and jumped up with hands balled into fists because words alone could not express how outrageous such an idea was. It soon became evident though that her friend would not respond. Well, she was not someone that was easily ignored. She bent down over the backrest again and played with the tip of Zelda's left ear as if it had been a guitar string. It truly was fortunate that Hylians had their long pointy ears because it was such an excellent tool when wanting to tease them. When the irritating fiddling had no effect Peach moved on to curl the ringlets of hair that fell on either side of Zelda's face around her finger. When Zelda still did nothing she decided to repeatedly poke her cheek.

"Give them a chance," Zelda said and moved away from Peach's poking finger.

"Zelda, you know that I would love to but Link has not exactly been on his best behavior lately and he did not have the sweetest personality to begin with," Peach said. "Well, not saying that he has a bad personality," she added.

Link was quite a touchy subject, being one of the few things that the princesses did not have mutual opinion on. Zelda could admit that she was a teensy bit partial whenever Link was concerned, where most reasons could be trailed back to him being her childhood friend, but Peach's opinion was based on a series of misunderstandings, which was not much better.

The Hylian princess observed Link from across the room and hid the lower half of her face behind the book. His pointy ears were pierced, his hard-set expression that of a warrior and his body toned by the many hardships he had been put through, but she could only see gentleness when looking at him. He had hardly changed at all since she had first met him. He still insisted on wearing that green hat that was of the same design as those worn by the forest children, the Kokiri, in Hyrule and his eyes still had the same pure deep blue color. In many ways it felt like he would always be that little boy to her.

The sound of two swords unsheathing caused the two princesses to flinch. Link had lunged at Marth who parried the swing with what appeared to be utmost ease. It was not so, though. Marth, being royalty, had practiced the art of the sword, and the pen to boot, since he had spoken his first comprehensible word. In comparison to Link, who had been forced to learn little by little on his own, Marth moved with elegant correctitude and could maintain a neutral expression despite having to put a lot of force into his swordplay. But Link was a great deal stronger, and although the prince was faster it demanded a lot more additional strength from him to match his opponent.

"Can they not give it a rest outside the matches?" Peach said, shaking her head.

Zelda agreed. The reason they were currently living under the same roof was because of a competition. One could call it a modernized version of the old gladiator games, with a few smaller amends like nobody having to sacrifice its life. Every afternoon a match between two of the contestants was broadcast across the planet to those who had access to television, which was far from everybody but still a great number of people. It was the most popular contemporary show with the most prominent fighters in the universe battling it out for mass entertainment.

"I'd rather not get involved," Zelda said, frowning at the two young men that were making their way around the living room. Apparently, Marth knew that he would fare better if he took use of his speed and let Link chase him with sword in hand, countering every now and then but mostly dodging. It really would be quite a bother to step in-between at this point.

"Last time they ripped the curtains I bought. Do they think that I'm given money to decorate this place?" Peach complained with hopes of gaining her friend's sympathy, only to notice that Zelda was now too involved in the story of her book to care. She blew some bangs out of her face and glowered at her friend, thinking that Zelda would never get herself a good man by being a passive bookworm. It seemed like she really would have to take matters into her own two hands.

"Boys, stop it," Peach said, clapping her hands together, and was completely ignored when the two swordsmen dashed past her. "This is nothing but brutal and childish," Peach gave it a second try with her index finger in the air when they came running back from the opposite direction but, sadly, received the same response. Would she have to lose her temper?

Marth made another U-turn and headed for the couch again. He resisted throwing a glance over his shoulder because he only needed his ears to know that Link remained on his trail and it did not seem as if he planned on giving up the chase. In other words, he would have to do something to make sure that this petty fight was not drawn out any longer.

In addition to knowing that he was faster, Marth also knew that Link carried around an arsenal that could fill its own museum of weapons. Where he kept these items went beyond the laws of nature but he did, and they did not only make his movements deteriorate but affected his jumping capabilities. The prince let Link gain on him, listening to the sounds of his approaching footsteps while keeping his gaze locked on the couch. It would have been preferred if Zelda had not been there but he just had to trust that this spur of the moment would succeed. He put one foot on the armrest of the couch and used it as a springboard to jump over the entire three seater without brushing a hair on Princess Zelda's head and she read on like nothing had happened. Link's sharpened reflexes allowed him to jump almost the exact moment Marth had. The downside of this was, as Marth had so cleverly calculated, that Link would be unable to take use of the couch and he would need it.

Princess Zelda barely had the time to notice that something was filling out her field of vision outside the book before it was too late. She raised the novel to shield her head from the incoming danger but it did little to prevent her childhood friend from tumbling down on top of her and she dropped the book that bounced on the armrest behind her and fell to the floor. The sound of Link's sword dropping to the ground beside them drenched that of her hardcover book and the clatter of the steel ebbed away into the silence that had befallen the before so noisy room.

The right angle between the armrest and the seat had not been merciful on Zelda's back. Her body protested against Link's weight pushing her down and she arched her back, coincidentally pressing her torso against his. The awareness of the pain was slowly descending on her and a moan escaped her small mouth when she brought a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes tightly. She pulled her leg up. A wave of his hot breath washed over her neck and slipped inside the high collar of her dress before he bolted away from her and sat upright with his legs tucked under his body and his knuckles resting on his knees.

At the very moment that Zelda took use of the free space to sit up, Link bowed his head to apologize to the monarch of his country. The princess, who had just opened her eyes, reacted in instant panic and slapped her hands together, narrowly preventing him from accidentally dipping his face in her bosom.

Zelda winced from the sound of her palms hitting his cheeks. The impact had been bigger than she had anticipated. Then again, she had not thought at all, had she? The tension would not let go and Link remained in her grip, bent over and his blond hair concealing whatever look was on his face.

"Sorry," he mumbled when she slowly let go of his head and he immediately turned away from her and stood up.

"No, I'm sorry," Zelda said, years of practice fending off the quivers that threatened to disrupt her voice.

Her heart sunk, like a stone, when Link walked away without giving her a second look and even abandoned the fight that had upset him to disappear up the stairs. He strongly put one foot in front of the other, neither running away nor dragging his feet; somehow so normal it became unnatural, like balancing on the line where the smallest disturbance would make one fall.

Once Link was gone Marth picked up Zelda's book. The prince kept his head bent down when he knelt to retrieve it and turned the object in his hands. For a moment he hunched over the dark front of the novel and then briefly glanced up through his blue bangs at the princess with a frown on his face. She was still gazing at the stairs and he brushed some invisible dust off the cover as he rose and silently watched the back of her head.

"Here," he finally said and made her turn around.

"Oh, thank you." Her eyes darted about uncertainly but in an instant her smile came to the rescue.

The book left the prince's hands without him taking much notice and he did not respond to her smile either. He walked around her and sat down at the other end of the sofa, sweeping the remote off the coffee table on his way over.

Peach let out an exasperated sigh and left to find something better to do, seeing as the fight was over. Marth paid her little attention and flipped through the channels with half-closed eyes until he came by the news. Because he, like Zelda, had grown up in a country where one pretty much had to depend on whether one's pigeon survived to get any news at all, he did still not feel familiarized with newspapers, even less news from all over the word being thrown at him daily from a flat screen. The worst part was that he was starting to become spoilt with the information that his interest in politics had made him take in here in Magnavox. He might have done a good job avoiding the papers but the TV was on too often to avoid it and now he was addicted. How he would be able to go back to news-once-every-sixth-month-Altea he did not know.

"...Where demonstrators have gathered concerning yesterday's announcement of the participation of King Dedede. There were immediate objections when his planned attendance was made public, the reason behind being the fact that there are doubts whether he has any claim to his title and the emergency meeting is to include only the leaders of..."

Marth had already heard about the meeting. In fact, he was invited. It was with mild interest that he watched the rest. For the last few weeks there had been two milking cows that the media folk had tried to squeeze every single drop out of. The first was the meeting and the second happened to be the next thing they covered on today's newscast.

"The worrisome increase of seers and prophets that have experienced similar visions continues its rising trend. Scientists and magical users alike are still uncertain about the significance and if the dreams relate to each other at all."

Marth looked over at Zelda who casually turned a page. When first seeing her he would never have taken her for a fighter. To him she was delicate, calm and tender. If he had wanted to pick her up in his arms this very moment he could have done so effortlessly. Then again, not many in the house looked like they belonged among the top fighters of the world if one took a look around. There were quite a few children and who in their right mind would go all out on a yellow rodent? Himself, he was not of a size that would strike fear in many. Yet, Marth knew that underestimating any of them would be a devastating mistake. What made Zelda dangerous was her magical powers that was on a level that was not to be taken lightly. There were more fighters in the house that specialized in magic and while they had their own special skills she was the only one with the rare ability of foresight.

"Do you know anything about this?" Marth said and nodded at the TV where a woman wrapped in a purple scarf was shouting about bad omens and trying to tear the microphone away from the reporter.

There was a brief pause following his question.

"No."

"You have not dreamt anything strange lately?"

She raised her eyebrows and smiled. "No."

"Did I disturb your reading?"

She shook her head and dove back into the story. For a moment he considered leaving her alone.

"It's just that you look like something has been bothering you lately. I hope you know that you can turn to me if you want to talk."

"Thank you, but I am fine, really."

Marth nodded, eyes not straying away from her.

"I know that I can rely on you," she added and he felt less suspicious in an instant.

"Are you prepared for the meeting? Only two days left," he said.

"Yes, Master Hand is a very generous host. He must be very busy with the Super Smash Brothers event and he's still willing to make sure that we can attend when politics intervene. He even got us a limo to take us there of what I've heard."

"Hmm, do you think there's any point in going? There has never been a meeting where every leader in the world has been invited. I feel that we lack information. Are we really facing such a huge crisis?"

Looking out the window it did not seem like it. The sky was bluer than one you would find in a child's drawing. Their house was located just outside the city border to give them some well needed privacy and, even if this meant that Marth could not see it with his own two eyes, one could bet that people were walking down the city streets without a care in the world. Except for the foreseers causing a ruckus there had been nothing above the ordinary happening.

"Yes," Zelda said.

"It's just that the world is big. We're so many and there are still conflicts between many of us. Well, we live in peaceful times but not in a perfect world. Should we let this paranoia fool us into some overblown meeting where we'll be unable to do anything worthwhile? I don't even have a clear idea of what we're supposed to do. It's a royal farce."

"I think that we are the only ones possessing the pieces to puzzle together this, at first glance, farce."

Marth snorted, his thoughts trailing back to his home continent Akaneia and the complicated relationships between its nobles. "Our areas are not well known for magic. The few with _the gift_ are forced to study magic their whole lives and can only use it through spells. I doubt there's a single seer. We'll probably have the least to contribute despite having an overrepresented number of monarchs."

"Oh, do not be like that. Hyrule might be considered a country of magic but except for myself there is only one person who claims to be able to see into the future and although she might have an ability to give people a push in the right direction, see snippets of their future, I doubt that she is at a level that would let her see anything beyond that. It was quite a joy to find her in last week's newspapers."

"And you really haven't dreamt of anything?"

Zelda's lips parted slightly when her gaze moved towards the window. The turn of her throat was quite a lovely sight, even if the silence was unnerving. They were such close friends that he did not expect her to keep things from him, less something that could involve both their countries.

"Zelda, I know that you can't have slept well lately."

Her eyes narrowed at him.

"You have an even worse appetite than before, you do not take as big part in conversations anymore, you have trouble focusing when you read."

The list could be made longer. Her pale skin had lost most of its luscious luster. Beneath her eyes it had taken on a translucent purplish tint. Her eyelids drooped as if her eyelashes weighted them down. Her already light frame looked like it could be blown away like a feather by the smallest puff of air. She had been constantly lost in thought, not managing a sincere smile in weeks. But those were things he could not tell her without being too familiar.

"It's about Link," she said.

Definitely the right thing to say to make him back off. Never had he met anybody who had made it such a challenge for him to act civilized. Peach had once said that having them in the same room was like putting a Persian cat together with a stray mutt. Marth had never been one to judge people by their status but he had caught himself thinking about the Hylian in degrading terms. There was something about his happy-go-lucky style that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe he envied how easily Link could smile after wading through a sea of bloodshed. Or perhaps there was more than that, seeing how down the hero had been the last few weeks and the feeling of annoyance still remained.

Link in turn had given Marth dark looks since day one but had not often let it go further than that. It was only for the last few weeks that he had been picking fights more frequently. Their usual procedure was for either of them to hint at their displeasure until someone, usually Link, made a detonating remark and then there would be a few insults from Marth and a couple of attempted comebacks from the Hylian. It was seldom they were agitated enough to draw swords at each other but it happened, again often started by Link because he seldom fared well in their battles of wits.

"So it's like that."

He left Zelda to her book.

* * *

A/N

This story might seem as if it leans towards the Marth/Zelda pairing (which I do have a soft spot for, I admit) but I had planned to keep it at a "very good friends" level. Unless people want there to be a couple of hints. I would not mind.

Even if I have the base of the story planned out I have not given the relationships much thought. I guess it could turn out something like this: Bowser wants Peach who is perfectly fine with being with Mario (but wants Zelda to hook up with Marth and Link with Samus). Peach and Roy might seem suspiciously fond of each other considering they both have something else and condemn infidelity. At times Samus may appear to have a soft spot for Falcon, who does not know that she is a woman. It could happen that Ness is unnecessarily mean to Nana, for reasons unknown, while she tries to rival "the guys" that invade her time with Popo. I can throw in some more people. No problem.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it.


	3. The Hero of Time

_**Chapter 2**_

-**o-**

_**The Hero of Time**_

* * *

What was wrong with him? There was no denying it now, not any longer. He was slowly losing control, and he had a hunch that the dreams were the reason.

Link rubbed his forehead when he pulled the green curtains aside to let the morning sun into the room. Zelda had probably been awake for hours already. She had been the first one to notice he had been acting strange, not that he would have expected less from her. Despite this, there was a part of him that feared the reason behind her keen perception was that she might be having the same dreams as him.

It had happened only once before that they had shared the same dream, as if destiny had helped to foreshadow their first meeting. That had been the only time one of his dreams had come true, and it probably had more to do with the bond between them than any foreseeing ability of his own. What else could explain her suspicions?

* * *

It was said that Hyrule was created by three goddesses; Din, Nayru and Farore. With limitless power, Din had cultivated the lands, Nayru in her wisdom had given it order while Farore had awoken life to uphold the law. Once their work was finished they had risen towards the skies, each leaving behind a part of their power to lead the people they left behind. If one possessed power, wisdom and courage, qualities represented by the three goddesses, this Triforce would be able to grant one's every wish and lead Hyrule into a Golden Age. If not, one would only be given one third of the essence, which corresponded with the quality one believed the most in. The other two pieces would be given to two guardians, chosen by the goddesses, that lived up to the two attributes left. After Ganondorf Dragmire had found the three golden triangles Link had become the juror of courage and Zelda the keeper of knowledge, tying their fates together until the day that the Triforce was completed again.

The Hylian raised his left arm to shield his eyes from the sunlight, twisting his hand to protect from the blinding rays. The mark of the Triforce was still there on the back. To think that such a small thing was now a proof of who he was. From being a boy left to his fate in the forest and raised as an outsider by the Kokiri, he had become the Hero of Time when thwarting Ganondorf's plans.

That title would not be undone, even when he had sold the people's memories of his deeds to erase the damage caused by Ganondorf. He could never change what he had become. It was not how he was treated that mattered. It was something deeper, within himself.

His gaze swept to the bedside table where a pictograph of Princess Zelda lay unframed. He was fairly good at taking pictures but he had fumbled terribly when taking that one. One could see that she was trying to hold back laughter where she sat on the ground, outside, by a couple of lush green bushes they had out of the blue selected for a backdrop. He felt something twist inside his stomach and quickly looked away.

It had been a little more than a month now since the dreams had started. No, he could no longer describe them as such. Since the nightmares, disguised in a sweeping cloak of dreams, had come to him. At first he had neglected them because his memories of them were too blurred and he could not make much sense out of them. Loose fragments were all that had been left in his mind. Strangely enough there were no images. Only words. Words about the coming of war. Words that had in every way possible tried to recruit him to the unknown. Words where doing as they said would require him to turn his back on his country and his friends.

At times these offers and threats had been all that he could remember after waking up and it had made it difficult to see how the dreams all became a part of a bigger picture; but the more nights that passed, the more evident the horrible context became.

He had turned every offer down. It did not matter if he was promised power, money, women or glory. He had forced himself to withstand every threat and temptation that could make his heart waver. If he ever felt the slightest weakness he pressed his pillow down over his head.

He had never asked for anything, so why had his dreams turned greedy? Why would he want to choose the easy way out? Was it really his subconscious showing his true colors? Was it what he really wanted? Those thoughts tore at his mind and were why he could not go to Zelda to ask for her advice. A hero was not supposed to be greedy and so full of sin.

A few mere weeks after the nightmares had started he was deprived of sleep, his head filled with nothing but thoughts of countries torn by war and images of himself bringing it about; each time in exchange for some pitiful gift more worthless than the other. By then he was under the impression that a voice was speaking to him while he slept. More than ever he hoped that it would not be the voice of his subconscious because where would that leave him? Schizophrenic? A harsh chuckle escaped his lips as he pondered that option. At least that would explain things.

The voice had told him with awful precision about the despair that would befall Hyrule and its people when war consumed the world and then silkily, like a gentle whisper in his ear, told him that Hyrule would be given to him and escape the clutches of war and defeat. If he was willing to join the winning side. That way no Hyrulean would be harmed and he would be given tremendous power.

Link had declined of course. The royal family had been chosen by the goddesses he worshiped and how could he ever turn his sword on his princess? He would rather be sent out by her hand to die defending Hyrule than to save it by selling it.

The following night he had once again been told how futile any resistance would be, as well as the severe consequences that would follow. He had rolled over, done his best to shut it out but there had been no use. The voice had taken on a grave tone, as if a demon had been sitting on his bedside and put a hand on his head, and after a moment of silence said how unfortunate it was that Princess Zelda would have to die because of this. It should be blatant that it would not do to have an enemy sit on the throne.

His fist had closed around the blanket. Had he been shaking? All he could remember was a feverish feeling, as if his blood had turned cold and frozen in his veins, yet he was sweating. The silence after the last word was spoken had been suffocating.

"But if this was handled peacefully it could all be avoided. There is a way to save Princess Zelda."

It was said with such consideration and care. Words smooth as if formed by the very lips of salvation. _Save_? Did it not sound glorious?

"If you fought for the winning side, and in exchange was given Hyrule, Princess Zelda would rule at you side. Not only will you have spared her precious land from the flames of war but also secured her position as queen. Her gratefulness would know no boundaries for sure."

For the first time since the haunting voice had come to him he hesitated.

He swallowed as saliva began gathering in his mouth. He knew that Zelda would never accept being fooled into marriage, especially to a commoner like himself. Would she forgive her childhood friend if he wed her, only to have Hyrule turn a blind eye on war in exchange for safety? The price was too steep, and for what? To her, and to him, it was unthinkable that Hyrule would serve the being that humbled and suppressed their friends. An acidic "no" slipped off his tongue.

After that there had been no more offers or promises. The voice that had groveled and raised him to the skies instead chose to belittle him in the cruelest ways possible. He had no home. No family. Had his heroic title gone to his head? He was a nobody, who had been left in the forest to rot. Did he think that the princess wanted him following her around like a dog? He was a fool if he thought that their friendship was anything but duty on her part.

There was no end to the mockery. His ambitions in life were slowly withering away and dying and it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he saw Zelda. Today would probably not be any different. It would have been nice if he could stay in his room the whole day, no other company than the unmade bed, the empty oak desk and the wooden chair that had been pulled out and hidden underneath yesterday's clothing.

Although the thought was nice it was impossible. He grabbed the green tunic hanging over the backrest of the chair and smelt it. He had only used it for one day so it should be okay and he did not exactly own a wardrobe that let him gorge in Hugo Boss and Armani suits. He tossed it over his arm along with the long-sleeved shirt he liked to wear underneath it. He was already dressed in the usual white pants, although calling them tights might have been closer to the truth. He picked up his toothbrush lying next to Zelda's picture and headed for the door.

* * *

Every morning he wished that he could wake up earlier and that was not solely because of the dreams he had been having lately. Master Hand, who was in charge of the Super Smash Brothers, found it perfectly reasonable that one bathroom in the house was enough. One could ask oneself if there could possibly be anyone deluded enough to believe that mornings were long enough for all of them to take care of their hygiene before lunch.

When he exited his spartan room and stepped into the narrow hall he was greeted by the sight of a long line in front of the door next to the stairs. With that one exception, the upper floor rooms were all bedrooms and had they been numbered one could easily have mistaken them for hotel suites.

"G'morning, Falco" Link said when he got in line to the bathroom and the blue falcon in front of him turned around with large bags under his eyes. The anthropomorphic bird was part of a mercenary unit and had a quick tongue, but if one caught him in the mornings he was usually too tired to get clever.

"If you say so," he said and made a clicking sound with his beak before he turned back around.

No small talk that could have made the time pass faster and the line did not seem to move forward at all. There was already the sound of someone walking up to take a place behind Link, making the already lengthy line even longer. He drew his bangs to the side, in vain hoping they would stay put, while wondering how long this queue would end up being. It did not look as if it was get any shorter, that was for certain.

"Put that dress of yours on, Link."

The Hylian knew who that voice belonged to even before he saw her. That raspy sound, as if she spoke through a radio, was too distinguishing. Other than that it was not much that was distinct about it. It was pretty deep for a woman's voice, hinting at a unisex feeling and was seldom, if ever, moved by emotion.

"Samus," he said when he turned around to face her. Maybe she could distract him from the pull of gravity for a while? They had known each other long enough for him to have got over the fact that he had to tilt his head up to try to make out her slim intelligent eyes behind the green visor of her helmet. It was only a centimeter's difference, if even that. Nothing to be upset about. "You know that it's a tunic."

"I don't care if it's a bathing suit or whatever so long as you put it on. There are women in this house and it would be nice if we for one single day could avoid seeing a man's underwear, _or worse_."

"Right, but I don't see any of the girls around here." He had to get back at her for the old dress joke.

Samus Aran did not strike many as the most feminine of women. The intergalactic bounty hunter preferred walking around in her space suit that, besides making many confused about her gender, had a very convenient beam gun attached to the right arm. Her quiet nature and often merciless attitude did not do much to prove anyone wrong either. Peach had on one occasion referred to her as _the strong silent type_. However, as her friend, Link knew that there was more to her underneath that intimidating exterior.

"Very funny. No women. I'll let that one slide, but what makes you so sure that one won't be showing up all of a sudden? Or maybe that was what you were hoping for?" Samus said and he could far too clearly visualize her thin lips curving into a sly smile as her gaze wandered down his bare torso.

"I need to wash and then I have to take it off again," he muttered but still pulled the green cloth over his head. "But unlike me you're an early bird so hav-"

"Please, aren't we done with the jokes?"

"I wasn't saying anything about you being raised by bird people."

"Chozo."

"Whatever," he huffed. "Haven't you already brushed your teeth and done all that morning business?"

"Let a girl have some privacy, will you? I'm just going to... powder my nose."

It would have been less funny if he had been the one to use such an expression. Had he been in a better mood he would not have been able to hold back his laughter but the way it was now the only thing that came out of him was something between a snicker and a snort.

"And to think that your sense of humor is usually nowhere in sight this early," she remarked, unamused by his sneer, leaning a bit to the side to get a look past him. "I guess Peach is taking her morning bath?"

As if on cue the lock cliqued and the door handle was pressed down. Out bounced Princess Peach, dressed in one of her fabulous pink dresses with a skirt that was of a size making one wonder how she could get through the doorway. Her hair looked washed, curling at the ends without it looking messy and shining just by the faint glow of the lamp. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips a glossy pink. It was almost understandable that she had to occupy the bathroom every morning.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said with her hand brought to her mouth in the most adorable manner. "I hope that it wasn't _too_ much trouble?"

Murmurs of agreement rose from the previously annoyed crowd.

"Not at all."

"No, no."

"Take your time, Peach."

The princess smiled. A happy expression was what suited her the best and those full lips usually got her anything she wanted. Whether she knew about this powerful weapon or not was something the fighters in the house had speculated on several times but the mystery remained unsolved.

"They see a skirt and suddenly their brains stop functioning," Samus said once Peach was out of earshot.

"Don't be jealous, Samus," Link said and stifled a yawn. There were about eight people, all men, in line before him and none would need more than five minutes in the bathroom, if even that, but it would still take its time. If he had to wait for more than half an hour it would be lunchtime before he had eaten breakfast.

"It's not like that. If somebody manned up and told her the truth, that she really is causing trouble, we wouldn't have to wait every morning or... Did you hear what I just said, Link?"

He glanced over his shoulder to find the bounty hunter with her hands on her hips.

"Huh?"

"Forget it."

It was a silent wait of twenty minutes before it was his turn, less than expected but it was not as if he would have minded missing breakfast. He did not have much of an appetite at the moment and this way he could avoid standing in line a second time to brush his teeth after he had eaten. Too bad his stomach disagreed with his feelings.

* * *

"Can't believe the bathroom is bigger than my bedroom," he muttered, tossing his tunic aside when he approached the two white washbasins and the bathroom cabinet, which also served as a mirror. He reached out to open it and grab some toothpaste, but froze once he saw his reflection in the mirror. Did it show on his face what awful things went on behind those blue eyes?

No. He opened the cabinet, putting the mirror at an angle where he could no longer see himself. It was one of the many rules of the house that they were to keep their toothbrushes, and other toilet requisites, in their own rooms to have some order, but not everybody was as obedient as Link. He sighed at the many toothbrushes, a rainbow of colors, that lay scattered on the shelves or stood in different containers all over the place. Life was depressing.

"You're worse than Peach," Samus said the second he exited. He barely had the time to step out before she made her way past him and slammed the door. She had at least not commented on his battle with the ugly piece of wood. He had forgotten to unlock the door before trying to open it and had been forced to struggle quite a bit. The young Hylian dragged his feet over to the stairs, bringing the toothbrush with him. Next on today's schedule was breakfast. Only fourteen hours more to go.

Each boot dropped to the step below like his legs had been made of iron and they did feel like they were. To get to the kitchen he had to cross the spacious living room where most of the Smashers, as many referred to the fighters of the house, spent their free time. There was one in particular that he did not want to meet.

"Calm down," he told himself. Only a few steps left and he would be on the ground floor. All he had to do was slip around the corner to the right and he could get inside the kitchen unnoticed. Before he could do so though, something entered his field of vision, so silent in its approach that it nearly gave Link a heart attack.

A bony body, a feline head on a tender neck, an outgrowing like a tube from between the shoulder blades to the back of the skull, a long tail that grew into a bulb at the end that swung like a sledgehammer. Uglier than a gnu and, in likeness to the miserable animal, looking like the twisted result of a madman's game with leftover limbs, no one ever questioned the solemn expression that was etched on its face.

One could not live in this house without hearing the unsettling rumors about Mewtwo. This catlike furless creature that kept to itself most of the time and rarely spoke. No one knew where the information came from or if any of it was the truth, but the mere presence of this Pokémon was unnerving enough to make anyone assume that it was. It was as though the air was disturbed around him, like when radio waves interfered with each other, and the round balls that were his fingertips sometimes twitched by some mysterious force.

They said that Mewtwo was the result of scientific experiments, a life form that had been the first _object of research_ to survive certain unspecified tests. As such, his strength was near to incomprehensible, or so it was said. He possessed psychokinetic powers and an intelligent mind. Self levitation, mind control, telekinesis, teleportation and force fields were only some of his rumored abilities. He had been created to be the most powerful Pokémon in the world and even though Pokémon were wise in their own sense they could, for example, not speak the language of men. Mewtwo could, if yet only through telepathy, but hearing a stranger's voice inside your head only scared people further and became the root to more assumptions.

Mewtwo's purple eyes glided to the side when he and Link passed each other. The hero could feel the depth of the dark pupils seep in the sight of him and it made his hair stand on end. It felt like Mewtwo had been watching him a lot lately but he could not find any reason why he would be of any interest to the Pokémon.

Link had at one point suspected Mewtwo to be his midnight torturer. It would explain those curious glances and it was understandable that he would not have recognized his voice. Inside one's head, one did not hear in the normal sense and the distinction between voices was but an illusion of the brain. It could very well be Mewtwo who was the unnamed discourser. Moreover, the voice seemed to adjust to whatever Link did or however he behaved during the days and with pinpointed accuracy found any weakness he let slip to the surface. No, it went beyond that. It was like the voice had access to his every thought, feeling and memory. But for some reason he could not, in the long run, bring himself to suspect Mewtwo. It was more intuition than anything else but he could not imagine any motivation of Mewtwo's that would make him spend his nights convincing Link to help him invade the world.

The Hylian quickened his pace and entered the kitchen. It was a typical plain and bright room with white walls and square tiles. Taking up most of the first half of the room was a long rectangular table with one chair for each Smasher. It made it quite troublesome to socialize because one was always limited to those sitting closest, even if people often moved around when given an opportunity.

A wooden kitchen counter with a bleak marble surface was splitting the room in two halves, and on the side opposite of Link was the kitchen area with the refrigerator, freezer and dishwasher in stainless steel. It was a favorite area of many because it in and of itself was a mystery, on par with Link's weapon arsenal, how there was always a snack to be found there for everybody.

Like usual there were those who had not cleaned up after breakfast and Link slumped down in his seat, grabbing the last piece of bread. The butter had been left on the table for quite a while judging by the way it gave way for the spreader when he scooped some up. If it had not been for his growling stomach he would not have minded smearing the melting butter around in its plastic container for a bit. It was a pastime suitable for somebody like him.

"_The butter and I, the pathetic duo,_" he thought and dug the spreader down a bit deeper than necessary in the creamy yellow substance.

There was a soft approaching click-clack, click-clack of heels from behind him and then he sensed something at the brink of his vision. Strands of blonde hair, light as down, fell on his shoulder when Princess Zelda put a hand on the back of his chair and bent down.

"There you are. I know that you like to sleep in but today you almost had me worried."

"Y'don't have to worry," he said.

He spread some butter on the sad piece of bread that was falling into crumbs like it was made of wet sand. Did he have to eat it when he could already picture the way it fell apart all over his lap? Of course his stomach had to rumble worse than an upset King Bowser the second the thought crossed his mind. No matter what, he had to lose his dignity, was that it?

Link glanced at the princess and his lips felt like they had turned to stone. His eyebrows sunk and he could bet that he did not exactly have his most dashing expression on his face. Who cared anyway? If it scared her away she would not pester him like she had done the last few days, no, weeks.

"But I am worried," Zelda said and pulled out the chair next to him.

"How did I know you were going to have some kind of ulterior motive."

"Link, that's not why I greeted you like that."

"Right."

The sandwich fell into two pieces when he tried to bring it to his mouth and he sighed. He kept his face closer to the table to shorten the distance and to make sure that the princess was out of view. It did not help much. He did not need his eyes to discern the soft sound when she moved a bit further away and how her arm slid off the table.

"Well, I guess it is true that I wanted to have a word with you about..." she trailed off and her face turned away, granting him a chance to analyze her expression. Had she still not given up? "...you," she finished, finding no more flattering way to address the issue.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

She inhaled. Her gaze caught his and for a moment he was captured. The way she looked at him made him freeze like a prey facing the barrel of a gun.

"You don't feel that anything is holding you back? Weighing you down? Or trapping you?"

No, why would he feel trapped? He had just lived a predestined life that was as good as over already and now he had an unknown voice after him that could not take no for an answer. Free as a bird. He looked straight into her eyes.

"No."

"You have not met anyone strange lately? The kind of person who will not let on anything about themselves?"

"We've been through this," he said, trying to keep his voice in check but still slammed his fist down on the table, barely missing his half sandwich. He unclenched his hand and looked away in shame. Her pitiful look was more than he could handle, but why did she have to be so very persistent? If he said no, could she not accept it and back off? She just had to drag out the ugliest parts of him.

"I won't ask anything else," she said, her tone of voice attracting his gaze again. She crossed her arms and one leg over the other, closing up like a cold wall. Feigning ignorance was one of her most fine-tuned techniques and her stubbornness could push it to great lengths. With a shudder he remembered that one narrow-minded aristocrat who had ended up crawling on the floor begging for her forgiveness and she had not swayed for a second. Although he wanted to be left alone, getting the cold shoulder had not been a part of the equation and he nearly caved. He flexed his fingers but managed to keep silent. How cold would she not be if he told her? Then he would have to outclass the aristocrat's struggles, that much he knew.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Did he ever not interrupt? Link felt his ears twitch at the bare sound of that voice. That velvety voice, always seasoned with courtesy. Prince Marth Lowell, perfect all the way out to his fingertips, made his entrance. Link's opinion: He would have been a lot more likable if he was not already so damn over the top likable.

And how the ladies fawned over him.

Jigglypuff could only make squeaky noises when Marth was around. She was referred to as "Rock Bottom" by the male Smashers, not because she had on a stroke of bad luck ended up in last place during the first fighting event but because she was seen as the least attractive of the few females. Quite unfair because she was a pink puffball Pokémon that did not make the best match with a human, but beautiful in her own right.

Nana had yet to hit puberty but followed Marth around with her face red as a tomato. Popo, her childhood friend and the other half of their ice climber fighting duo, was quite bewildered when she suddenly insisted on walking around with the cap of her pink parka down to show off her hair, and why the different hairstyles every day?

Peach was by far the worst. Marth was so refined, so stylish, so graceful, so elegant, so handsome, so intelligent, so skillful! He was one of her top five topics when talking with Zelda, and with all likelihood also the reason behind Peach's decision to found the Royal Smasher Tea Club. They had daily after breakfast meetings and the only members were Marth, Zelda and herself.

"I did interrupt," Marth said and lowered his head but not his gaze.

Link, unimpressed by the prince's humble appearance, rested an arm on the back of his chair and neither said nor let his facial features reveal anything. He glanced over at Zelda. Her harsh expression had already softened and the angry wrinkle between her eyebrows had been smoothened out. Maybe she would drop her act of indifference? Say, "yes, Marth, I was just asking Link something very important and I still want an answer," or something along those lines. Her gaze moved to him and her lips parted before her eyes flickered back to Marth.

"No, you did not interrupt anything."

"Good to hear." Marth nodded and returned the smile she gave him when she unfolded her arms. "Princess Peach is asking for you. She wants you to know that the tea is ready."

"I'll come right away."

The pink skirt of her dress brushed against Link's boot when she rose but it could just as well have been skin on skin. He stared at the back of Zelda's head, not blinking and ignoring the stinging feeling it brought about, in case she would turn around to at least say goodbye. Marth offered her his arm, as always clothed in a navy blue gauntlet lined with silver buckles, and the pair disappeared into the living room.

"Shit," Link hissed under his breath. Why did that woman have to be so very difficult and why did he have to care? He threw a look at what was left of the sandwich and knew that he would not finish it. At least he would not have to brush his teeth again.

His life sucked. Better accept it.

After he had been sent back to his childhood and no one but Zelda could remember him he had been too restless to stay in Hyrule. Yet, its open fields, the clouds encircling the mountain tops and the deep forests were a sight he always carried with him and returned to, and what a comfort it was when he first spotted the towers of Hyrule Castle in the distance. At times he thought that he lived for that "welcome back" when he stepped into Princess Zelda's garden after months of journeying. That was how it had always been and even as they grew older he had never thought that it would change. No matter what, at least she would be in the castle, safe and sound.

When it first, after years of denial, dawned on him that little Zelda, whom he had climbed trees with and brought horseback riding, would share a man's bed he had not welcomed the thought. Putting an image of a stranger's lips kissing their way down her body next to a memory of her catching a butterfly made him sick. The possibility that the man could be Marth also made it harder to accept her walking out the door, holding on to his arm and keeping close to him.

There was a loud beating in his ears. He knew that he was overreacting about Marth. The ladies' appreciation had made it somewhat difficult for the prince to get along with the men but they did not leave him out or treat him badly because of it. Marth seemed perfectly fine with playing along with the girls too and came to every tea party, praised Nana's hairstyles, made sure to say hello to Jigglypuff and discussed books and politics with Zelda.

Link had only lost his temper once after the voice had appeared, but that was enough for it to quickly involve Marth in the nightly discussions. From there on his patience had been reduced to close to nothing. According to the voice Marth favored the Hylian princess. After all, Marth was just being polite with the other girls but Zelda got special treatment, and why did he think that Marth would agree to all those tea parties? Not for Peach's sake.

"Link," the voice had said. "Why the solemn look on your face? You should be happy for your friend. Once she is married to Marth, she will get her happily ever after when he brings her to Altea. A shame for you of course. I don't want to suggest that you might have clung to the thought that you could endure at her side in Hyrule Castle, even once she became queen and married. Maybe their first child will put Marth in a good enough mood to invite you?"

The taste of iron had knocked some sense back into him. The words had made him bite his tongue not to start yelling. Would he never be left alone? Would he not even have the reassurance that Zelda resided in the tall towers that greeted his returns to Hyrule? Could he not even keep that?

Link shook his head and the memory quivered and became unclear, like a reflection on the surface of a lake shattered by a stone before it vanished into hazy mist. He stared at the spot where the two royalties had disappeared and could still visualize Marth's cape fluttering behind him and Zelda's long hair swaying with her every movement. His fingers curled as his hand formed a fist. The very same sight could be the last thing he ever saw of her.

It caused another memory to impose. An idea that he had turned down without a second thought because it was too cruel and childish. The voice had suggested that because the new revolution demanded that the old monarchs were disposed of, and Link would save Zelda's position when he became king, Marth could always work in their castle. At the time it had sounded like madness and like a low thing to do but all of a sudden it made a lot more sense to have Marth crawling on the floor by the throne. Then he would be lucky if he got to touch the queen's feet.

"What are you smiling about?"

Samus leaned on the table and cocked her head to the side.

"Nothing," he said and wiped off the smile that he had not noticed appearing.

"I did not tell you there was anything wrong with smiling, especially since you haven't been your old cheerful self lately. The closest thing I've seen in weeks was that mean, and can I say totally unnecessary, snicker earlier and that does not make things look too good for you."

"Cut it out. You're one of the few who has not been bitching about it."

"Your mouth has been getting fouler too."

"Lay off," Link muttered. He barely had enough energy to keep his eyes open and the fatigue took the opportunity to make itself known when Samus, who had previously been a sacred oasis, turned out to be a backstabber like all the rest. "_Please_,"he added.

"Fine, I won't nag you," she said and took the chair where Zelda had been sitting moments ago.

"What do you think of Marth?" Link blurted.

Her red helmet concealed her surprise, which made it hard to tell why she did not respond right away. The Hylian picked up his toothbrush and twirled it around in his hands. One spin. Two spins. Three spins.

"He's an okay guy?" she said, shifting slightly in her seat. "I know that I've said that he's a sissy and a snob once or twice." She eyed the toothbrush he was playing with. "I guess he makes people like me feel clumsy and unrefined somehow, but it does not mean that I hate him."

"Right," Link said, his hand slipping as the toothbrush fell to the floor where it was left to stay. It had just missed a puddle of spilt milk but looked quite miserable lying in the surrounding dust and dirt too.

When he looked up he saw that Samus had reached out to touch him but withdrew her hand midway. Her sigh sounded like the wind going through a microphone as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I like you better than him."

"Thanks, Samus."

"Don't thank me. I'm no good at consoling or stuff like that."

The corners of his mouth pulled up to form a smile for her, but it was like stretching a rubber band. There were resisting forces that brought his lips back to starting position again.

* * *

A/N

Lots of thanks to Cimar of Turalis who beta-read this chapter. If you think that it is bad now, just know that it was ten times worse before he got to work on it. He has been overly generous with my little whims (conjugations, characterization and plot), and I could never thank him enough.

*Grabs the Hylian Shield and hides* Now, I know that Link is acting a little... edgy... but he has been terrorized by that voice for months in this chapter and is dangerously close to cracking. I wanted it to be a rather long period of time because I consider Link a character with a strong heart and values, meaning that it would be difficult to make him sway even if you pinpointed his greatest weaknesses. As much as I would have loved to write about the voice slowly breaking down his psyche, that would have have been a story of its own.

I bet anyone could tell that I am not used to swearwords? If I was writing in my own language I doubt I would be able to write what I wrote here, but for some reason it felt endurable in English. Like speaking with a false tongue.

And thank you so much everyone who left a review. I am doing pirouettes here (the reviews were so kind!). They were all very encouraging and I hope that you will enjoy the rest of the story.

Thank you for reading!


	4. The Boy Without a Fairy

_**Chapter 3**_

-**o-**

_**The Boy Without a Fairy**_

* * *

He did not know what time it was. On his bedside table lay nothing but dust and the picture of Princess Zelda. His walls were bare, not a single painting to liven up the place. There were a lot of things one would look for in this room before noticing the absence of a clock, but why waste money on something that had never been needed before? There were no alarm clocks in Hyrule. Well, there were gossip stones that one could give a good whack if desperate for the time, but it was not comparable to this situation, was it?

His clothes were thrown over the lone chair and as the hours went by they faded away with the last light of day. This night had to be one of the darkest Link had ever experienced. The moon had since long surrendered to the impenetrable might of the grey clouds. One would not be able to see one's own hand held up in front of one's face.

The young hero was sitting on his bed. His chin was sinking to his chest while he tried to stay awake. Why had he wanted this day to be over again? The lack of sleep was making his eyelids heavy. It brought about a feeling of illness and a disgusting taste in his mouth. He allowed himself to fall over, sinking into the softness of the pillow, and covered his closed eyes with his arm.

"Don't come here tonight."

Usually he had trouble falling asleep and could stay up for hours. That was only natural with an irregular daily rhythm, due to long journeys and never knowing when to expect an ambush. That was why it felt strange when his body claimed its right against his will.

He was beginning to slip in and out of consciousness when the feeling that something was off crept upon him the way one can feel a fly crawl on one's skin before it takes flight. His eyes did not want to open and he rolled over onto his left side and let the limp arm fall away from his face. He squinted at the furniture while he waited for the blurriness to fade away, but should he be able to see anything at all? It was not pitch black around him anymore. A purple shade was sneaking into the dark and the longer he looked, the more the purplish mist seemed to take shape and move around his bedroom like slow swirls, not very unlike the smoke after putting out a candle.

"Link."

His eyelids closed and veiled the dreamlike mist, as if a black curtain had fallen over his eyes.

"You are not very happy, are you?"

So what? He liked feeling bad. It numbed the pain somewhat. Sure beat talking to voices in your head at least.

"A lot of people are unhappy, but not everybody has the right to be. That is why you think you have to keep quiet, isn't it? You see them complain and wallow in their own petty illusions of pain, and they make such noise about it. Only those who are like you, the ones who suffer in silence, see how ugly the complaining ones make the world. You do agree that the world is ugly, don't you?"

"It's beautiful," he said, barely letting his lips form the words and he cursed himself for replying. Talking with it was not according to the plan.

"How can it be beautiful when there are those who make you suffer in this world where you should be happy? Is that beautiful? Is that not ugly? If I asked you for a reason why you should be unhappy I am sure that you could not come up with a single one."

"That's easy," Link mumbled, fighting his muscles crunching his face into a grimace. His misery was to atone for the lives he had taken. His one purpose in life was to slay whatever evil dared to threaten Hyrule and to suffer the consequences, in place of everyone else. "I can't be allowed to forget the sins I've committed."

The reply came almost too quickly. "When you have sacrificed so much for everyone else, you're rewarded with nothing but pain and loathing. What kind of warped view is that? Have you never questioned it?"

"Kind of one-sided trying to have a conversation with goddesses."

"Let me tell you what you fail to see. This cannot be what your goddesses intended for you. This is what the people around you has reduced you to. They might not have meant it, and there might be good in them, but they are what resulted in this never-ending suffering. That is the curse of obliviousness."

"I won't blame them."

"War will come, because of them, because this world cannot be abused any longer by the ones who lack understanding. Change is a must, but the question is; will you fight for your sorrows or against them? Will you take your last breath like the worthless man you are now or take the chance to become something more?"

Link was fine the way things were, really. He did not want to accept that he could take his pain out on his friends just for a bleak chance for change. It would be like admitting that he thought such horrible things about people, even though they had done nothing but care about him. It was egoistic.

He could not let it go on like this. It clouded his judgement to drift somewhere in-between dream and reality. Maybe he could not change that his body felt slow and heavy, his throat thick or that it felt like something was expanding inside his head and pressing on his skull from the inside, but he could keep his eyes open. The voice could only be a dream, and maybe if he was awake it would go away? Please, it was all that he wanted.

It was as though the mist was swimming around inside his head and he groaned when he sat up. His blood pressure must have dropped because, for a brief moment, his surroundings were dimmed before they came into focus once more. However, there was a shadow that refused to go away. To the right he could make out a mass of black amongst the purple. His head snapped in its direction and his eyes widened. The skin around his eyes feeling sticky and as if it stretched with difficulty. There was a huge birdlike silhouette, still as the face of a mirror, standing in the midst of the haze. His heart pounded hard once with stunning force that paralyzed his whole body. The creature was massive. Triangular in its shape like a raptor posted on a branch and blacker than the depths of the sea that remained forever untouched by the sun.

"You must be considering it. Do not fool yourself that you are thinking bad thoughts, Link. The truth is ugly at times. That is all there is to it," the haunting voice spoke and a chill went down Link's spine when the sound was traced back to the unknown figure.

His muscles tensed, his guard was up and he was in control of every breath and every wink. It was the moment when the tiger crouched down in the grass and readied itself for the first critical leap of the hunt. His legs slid over the edge of the bed and his bare feet touched the oak floor. Every mote felt like a pointy rock digging into the soles of his feet. He made sure not to betray his intensions by allowing his eyes to wander and slowly let his left palm touch the wall behind him.

"The world will only become a little more fair, Link. People like Marth could use a new perspective on things. Crawling around in the mud will only do him good and people like you will prosper. _You will have a purpose_."

He found the cobalt hilt of the Master Sword and trapped it in a firm grip. The sword and his shield were always put against the wall next to the bed before he went to sleep. He knew better than to leave them further than a meter away. Eyes still on he intruder, he pulled the blade up only a centimeter or two, just making sure that it would slide smoothly out of its sheath.

"Wanting it is nothing to be ashamed of because the truth can be no more, nor any less, than what it is," the shadow said.

With a piercing cry Link dashed forwards, the surroundings turning into blurred lines and only his prey, the one thing his gaze locked on, was in focus. He only needed three steps and he would be able to plunge his sword through its gut. The body would fall against his shoulder and he would resist its weight, hear the last rattling breaths and then take a step back, pull the blade out and let the warm red fluid flow and splatter on the floor.

A spiral of light rose from the stranger's palm before Link could reach him. Whatever he was trying to do, Link could not allow himself to be distracted, but the small figure that took shape inside the twirling light was one so familiar that Link unintentionally moved his sword to the side and the blade sliced through the air, just passing by the stranger's throat. He held the hilt tighter, his lips parted, he sucked in the stuffed air and his gaze moved up the intruder's frame.

The weak glow of the figure in his palm lit up the face of the unwanted visitor. Link's sword was still millimeters away from his throat but his broad mouth smiled down at the Hylian, reminiscent of the benevolent smiles formed by saints. His dark curls of hair rivaled the smoothness of an angel's golden locks, as if he had fallen from the light of the Morning Star and been stained by darkness, like Lucifer. Most of his black robe was still shrouded in darkness but several mystical symbols, unknown to Link, could be seen covering its fabric. The shoulders were drawn out into two sharp points, which broadened the impression of their might and contributed to give the stranger his outlining of a bird of prey.

"You should be aware, Link, that turning me down will only mean losses for you."

What little light there was in the room, the violet swirls that seemed to radiate with a soft glow, moved over the polished metal of the sword when Link's hand trembled. The stranger tilted his chin up, and it was clear that Link was not in any position to lose track of his own moments. The smallest vibration would be enough to erase the narrow space that was between his sharp-edged sword and the stranger's throat.

Link withdrew his weapon, but held the intruder's gaze when he let his arm fall to his side instead of sheathing the Master Sword.

"Do you realize what you have that can be torn away from you?"

In the intruder's hand stood a transparent miniature of Princess Zelda. Her alikeness to the original was flawless down to the smallest movement and strand of hair but for the size of her. The small frame was caressed by the soft sweeps of the mist and the strong incense that seemed to fill the air was enough to lull the hero into a sense that it truly was she who had materialized in the hand of this stranger.

"Zelda," Link said, the name slipping off his tongue as an affectionate sigh. For a second his hard grip around the hilt loosened. For a moment he dropped his guard, but he knew that he could not allow that to happen. His eyes narrowed as he tried to determine whether the other man had noticed or not.

"Poor little Zelda. You know how worthless the Hyrulean army is. It is sad to have to admit it but they have not had much training, seeing how peaceful times we live in. Well, and if there ever has been any trouble the legendary hero," he let a soft chuckle from the depth of his throat interrupt him, "has been quick to deal with it in their stead. She does not stand a chance. All she has is you."

"Yes, and I'll protect her," Link breathed. That his sword was at his side did not mean that this man could assume he was safe. One slice, and it would be all over for him. Link's foot lifted from the floor, the sole brushing it when he moved just a little bit closer. He adjusted his grip, giving a hint that some things were better left unsaid.

"And if you fail, do you think that she will be grateful for your efforts when Hyrule is at the brink of ruin and all that is standing between her and death is you, who will already be falling to your knees? All her pain will be a result of you overestimating yourself. Most likely, her eyes will be filled with contempt instead of tears when your eyes close for the last time."

The scenario was being played out in his mind the same moment it was said. This was not a threat Link had not heard before, but unlike previous times he had trouble coming up with a reply. His head felt as if it would explode if he tried to remember what his answer had always been. It hurt so much that he doubted it was worth going through it for a meek retort. He knew that he had never been good with words. Furthermore, the one thing that he could clearly recall was that his opponent had never faltered no matter how he had responded.

"If she is the one standing behind me, I will not let anyone pass," he said, and it sounded a lot less dramatic than it had in his head.

"Such devotion, 'tis a shame it was meant to be for naught."

"What do you mean?"

Link could sense what he meant. The man did nothing but smile at him. His dark eyes looked down on him from above, the purple light flickering across his irises and giving them a glint of amusement.

"No one is dearer to me in the world," Link said and scowled. "I love her but not the way you think. She is like a sister to me and I will always look after her as a brother."

"I have listened to you when you've said that you have never harbored any romantic feelings that would make you want to marry her, and I have seen how much you care for her innocent heart by keeping Marth away. I could accept that noble explanation, but even something as milky white as the moon has a dark side, and I must ask, is this to truly care for her? You are nothing but a wall to keep others out and away from her, and you yourself could never even attempt to replace the warmth they would have given her."

Link scrutinized his smiling face. It disturbed him how unfazed this man was, his expression unchanging, as if he was admiring a painting or some other dead material thing rather than debating. A part of him was still screaming that this was a threat he did better to kill off as soon as possible, but Zelda was still standing in the hand of this man. A bait too tempting for his curiosity to resist.

"How selfish you are, Link. She would be very happy with Marth, and you, whom she does not care for, bare your teeth at her suitor like the possessive dog you are."

"She does care for me," he replied, his voice low and throaty. He would have been insulted by being called a dog, but he felt all the more tired the longer this conversation lasted. Soon he would have to carry his sword with both hands and he could already feel his shoulder beginning to ache. "For one, I saved her from Ganondorf."

There was something that irked Link about the way the man's smile seemed to broaden, gently stroked by the dreamlike mist.

"And you fooled yourself into believing that standing protectively in front of her would be enough to make her love you the way you love her? Has it ever crossed your mind how it must have felt not to be _the chosen one?_ No matter what Princess Zelda did, how hard she struggled or how skilled she became she could never destroy Ganondorf, who was the root to all evil, all of her torments and the suffering of her people."

Link could do nothing but stare at him. If there was anything he wanted it was to keep Zelda out of harm's way and this depressing fate. Having her entering this fighting event was enough to irk him, and now this man suggested that fighting was what she wanted? It was what he had strived to keep her away from, and he had always been proud of his success in doing so.

"All she could do was wait, and watch, all because she lacked one sword; Evil's Bane, which is in your hands. She was imprisoned and entangled by the same fate that earned you your glories, and how that fact must have provoked her hatred for you. A hatred that ought to have grown every time your back covered her."

"She doesn't hate me. Why would she worry about me the way she does if she..."

"Let's face reality, Link. Once Ganondorf was defeated, the outcome proven to the goddesses, your precious princess could turn back time and spare Hyrule the pains she had been forced to witness while waiting for you. She did so with a farewell in mind, but you came running back immediately, like a loyal puppy. Even if it was only because of the cruelty of destiny, she was indebted to you and could not send you away."

"Not Zelda. I know she would never think like that."

"Even if things were different she could never hold you as dear as you hold her, because you are not equals. You will always be walking three steps behind her. No matter what title you achieve you cannot change that you have no background."

Link's heart was beating wildly inside his chest. It felt like punches, as if he was taking a beating right there and then. He had often thought that he was unworthy of the princess's friendship. How could such thoughts not have crossed his mind? Most of the Kokiri children he grew up with had often been cold to him because he had not had a guardian fairy like them. Of course he would not have one, because he never was a Kokiri. He was Hylian. In the exact same way he did not belong in the castle, he was an outsider, but why was it that he had been forgiving himself for staying again?

"It's what Zelda thinks that is important," Link said, repeating what his memory, and heart, was telling him. The small Zelda who was standing in the man's palm had a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It did not calm his heart but its beating turned into a steady current that became one with his body and being.

"As I have previously said, you have done nothing that would have made her feel the slightest affection for you. Accordingly, you will always be bowing down to her. She will be forever unreachable, unable to respect you and _see you. _Your so-called friendship is frowned upon by all of Hyrule, and most likely it is only an act of mercy on her behalf."

"No," Link said, not quite sure what he was objecting to and already feeling his newfound conviction weakening. "That's not how it is. She made sure that I got to keep my title, so that I could come and visit her in Hyrule Castle without special permission."

"You call yourselves friends, but that does not change that you have to address her by her title when in the company of others, does it? That you have to keep your head low and not approach her directly? You may think that it is an act between the two of you, but is it not the reality that you are fleeing from? She is taking pity upon a lowly creature. That is all there is."

The miniature of the princess was still observing him with a tender smile. It was as though her features formed an expression only with caution, barely hinting at a happy expression, and it made her look all the more gentle. Was such gentleness only what a master would grant its pet? A trifling affection where a pat on the head would make the other party feel blessed? That could not be.

"The world, the way it is, will always leave you reaching for her. There is nothing you can do that will bring you to her level. And there are more people being sacrificed for the current order of this world. Only by changing the wrongs will we be able to achieve true justice."

"I don't need your justice," Link said, feeling that it was becoming harder to breathe. If this went on he would be hyperventilating before long, he thought, and kept his gaze locked on the princess. Zelda was tilting her head to the side, watching him with unmoved calm and benignity while he gasped for air.

"Princess Zelda," the stranger said, shadowed by the shining presence of the princess's copy and thus able to watch the hero in secret, "loves everything fair. She would become very happy, very grateful, if you were to help me. The world as it is now make her work difficult. It would please her to play an active part in Hyrule's future and be able to spread her goodness. The new order will mean a closer relationship between the countries that make up the world. She will be one of its leading politicians and her influence will surpass what it can at present become, and you will be the one who gave it all to her. That would make you more visible to her than showing off with your sword ever could."

"Shut up," Link said under his breath. It was not as if he had chosen to wield the Master Sword. Why did this person make it feel as though it was no use fighting sleep any longer? That it would be better to drop to the ground and in his dreams beg never to wake up again.

"I dare to promise you that she will adore you. How could she not admire the man who gave her everything? If her world was a velvet night sky you would become its brightest shining star. She will love you. The way a woman loves a man."

"I don't want that."

"You have never asked for her love because it has never been an option. Well, now it is."

"You know nothing about her. You've been telling nothing but lies," Link said, finally finding it in him to gather his breath and raise his voice. If he thought about everything the voice had told him it made his chest hurt. It hurt as if his insides were pierced by thin and ruthless needles. They penetrated the images of a married life and made them shatter before him. Their shards hurt him even more and then he was trapped in a spiral of pain. He could not think of it. Ever.

"I am certain I am right. I have watched her the way I have watched you, and I do know you quite well, don't I? That is how I know her."

The dark man raised his palm and Princess Zelda became all that Link could see.

"Only good will come from you helping me. The egocentric nobles will learn that each and everyone has their own value, Hyrule will prosper, no one will be harmed. There are no downsides to take into account. The hierarchy that looks down on you and separates you from Princess Zelda will be gone. You will become a man she can look in the eyes and admire."

Link did still not want any of it. He could not say why, but it felt like a coward's resort and selfish wishes. All but one thing. One could not give love to a person who did not want it. Every journey had led him back to Zelda's side, every time to find that she did not love him any more than she had before he left. Could there be a reality where he was able to reach out to her, without strangers grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand away, without her face turning away from his touch? He had never dared to think the thought, not even tried to imagine himself reaching out. The obstacles that were painted by the words of this voice were more real to Link than reality itself. This was the nightmare he was living inside. Zelda stepping back, into darkness, and arms emerging from the shadows to keep him from her.

"She will love me? You won't make her love me?" Link said after a moment of contemplation.

"A woman like her would never let her pure gaze act out love. It will be her true feelings, her true desire to become your queen. She will welcome every approach from you."

Whatever help there may be, come and send these thoughts away. Link knew he had to fight these fantasies, but she was right in front of him so how could the words not echo in his head? Zelda, obediently stayed silent in the open palm. She ran her quick fingers through her long hair. It fell light and feathery around her. It bounced off her shoulders and she seemed pleased with the air cooling her neck. Maybe it was the slowness of the subtle motions, maybe it was the intoxicating scent that made his head spin, maybe it was the hypnotizing mist that tried to put him to sleep, but he was in trance. If he could just ask for one thing. Just one thing. He would promise never to be greedy again and never to complain no matter what hardships he had to face. His movements became sluggish. He was wide open. His fingers were already loosening around the hilt of the Master Sword.

"Aww, geez," Link grit out, his eyes overflowing with aching longing. His vision was getting blurry, making the image of Zelda dance around before his eyes and tease him with its elusiveness. He could make out the shape of his own free hand reaching for the small figure, but then the stranger closed his hand and Zelda dissolved into the same kind of smoke that circled around his bedroom. Link stared at the fist with parted lips and his breath taken away again, as if Zelda had been killed before his very eyes. He blinked at it, his mind trying to puzzle together what kind of scene he was currently in.

"Will you join me? Will you do my good in my name and salvage this world? If you do you shall live to see Paradise."

"I will," Link whispered, staring intently at the opening hand that the stranger was raising. The tip of its index finger touched the hero's forehead, and the same moment it made contact there was a bustling feeling stirring in his feet and in his hands.

"Do not fight me. Stay true to your word as I will stay true to mine. Allow me to take command and put you to sleep. When you wake up the path to the future open."

It felt as if his insides were engulfed by darkness. Like it was filling him up. As if his body was but a worthless container. Link exhaled, staying calm, doing nothing but feeling the shadows rise the way one feels water swallowing the body when stepping further into the ocean. There was already a part of him knowing that last his thoughts, his senses, his awareness and impressions of everything around him would be gone. His mind would be taken, but he was not afraid. He would wake up, and until then there would be no nightmares to frighten him.

_Let everything be black and let it bring me peace. _

* * *

A/N

And now the second reason why the voice has to pester Link for months has been revealed. It's a lousy debater. Link had to be half asleep (more like drugged), completely depressed and an equally lousy debater to give in (I was asking myself if I could really be as cruel as to let him be this defenseless with words).

When I was in 3rd to 6th grade, there was a girl who used a subtle but very effective method of bullying. She would pick an item (of clothing, a new perfume etc.) and then point out something that was wrong with it. Her victim would try to defend itself but she would simply repeat her insult until the victim broke down. They always did, because they could never say anything that would make her stop.

I wanted the voice's arguments to work as a monologue and not only a part of a dialogue. It was not too difficult since Link does not really say that much, but it is still not really obvious that it's there and I might not have fully succeeded. It seems somewhat strange too to try and manipulate someone without adjusting to its reactions.

And thank you so, so much for the reviews. They really are encouraging (blushes). I don't know why I always make the Smashers share one bathroom. That might result in that I have driven myself into a corner with the next chapter now that I think about it. And poor Link! Zelda was too late to make him open up. What will happen between the two of them now?

Thank you very much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it.


	5. The Last Heir

_**Chapter 4**_

**-o-**

_**The Last Heir**_

* * *

She was walking. She was seeing, she was breathing, she was hearing. She was feeling. But. If she stopped she might have wondered what was beneath her feet, which colors were before her eyes and if she really did feel. Even then she might not have perceived the glaring faults around her. Even if she did ask a question, she would probably come up with an answer that would satisfy her. Even though it did not explain anything. The lack of logic that was now her reality could not be defeated by reason. It was like finding oneself driving a car while sitting in the passenger seat. One might say, "I can't drive in this seat," but then notice the wheel in one's hands, and all of a sudden one accept the madness as something sensible. Such is the logic of dreams.

Her surroundings did not make much of an impression on her, so they were grey. It was like walking through the thickest of fogs, aware of the ground but not seeing it, and only fooled into thinking one is feeling it. The world was not empty though. Twinkling glimmers of silver pierced through the mist and danced down the finest of threads. The delicate strings crisscrossed their way through the vast space and, in spite of how fragile they looked, made her feel insignificantly small. She could guess that this was a beautiful web, and she was able to walk freely through its holes, but was too small to be able to distinguish its pattern.

She sauntered about, her mind at complete ease, all the chains of life forgotten and thus not existing. The only thing that was threatening to disturb her peace was a sense of déjà-vu that refused to leave her alone. She could not recall any past, so why would she be tormented by this feeling of familiarity? She had been nowhere, so how could she ever have been here?

Her eyes stayed on one of the lights, like a lone star twirling its way down a slide. It shrunk away, but by the time it had disappeared something else had crossed her field of vision. She was not alone. She saw the figure of a man, which hundreds of threads had attached themselves to. His jet black form made him nothing but a shadow, but there was a depth to his being that convinced her he was of flesh and blood, like her. A tunic wrapped itself around his frame, stretched across the broad back, was held in place by a thick belt that hugged the waist. The legs were shaped as those of a wanderer who did nothing but tread along a never-ending path.

This was a person she recognized.

"_Link,_" she thought herself whispering.

The dark silhouette did not respond. Since she had first laid eyes on him he had been struggling against the threads that innocently stuck to him. He wrung about. He pulled, he tore, he twisted and turned with the desperation of someone trapped in a wild uncontrollable blaze. How could such a subtle touch distress him so? It alarmed her. Why she did not know. It cooled her blood, which slowed down – perhaps enough to make the pace too slow for her heart.

"_Link,_" she said again, still steadfastly believing that she knew his name.

She called again and again, but he fought on as if he had not heard her. There was not even a second's hesitance from him to reveal that he had, at least, taken notice of her presence. Was it that bad for him to let the strings be? They would not harm him, she was certain. They held on to him with the same loving desperation a mother would to its child. How come he could not let this world remain the way it was? And why did it cause her such panic that he would not hear her?

"_Don't fight them,_" she told him and took a step closer. However, in that same moment the strings snapped. It was soundless and sudden, like when a hand wisps away a spiderweb. Everything slowed down, his arms falling down to his sides, the silver threads moving around with the delicacy of a ballet dancer balancing on the tips of its toes. Even the light reflecting off the threads froze. The world itself was shocked into petrification.

That was when she finally looked past him, and she was turned to stone as well.

It rose like a black wall, its size disturbing in the way that it had been an intruding witness she ought to have noticed long ago. The dark – not that of blue midnight, specked with stars – was plain and unknown. No eye could penetrate its depths. There was no way to tell if this was the harsh end, or an overwhelming infinity.

"_Link, Link,_" she called. Or at least she thought that she opened her mouth to stop him from going to the shadow he was facing. Her thoughts only happened to be miles ahead of her feeble actions. The darkness was timeless unlike her who was fighting the clock. Its mere presence seemed to mock her inability to make herself known in time. Her gaze crept into the dark. It swept along the ground, crawled into the narrowest spaces, but no matter how hard she looked she saw nothing. Then, rather than seeing, it was as if she felt another presence. As if she could feel the consistency in the air being more compact in one area. She flinched as her gaze came to an abrupt halt and slowly she began to distinguish a silent bystander. It was the same freezing feeling as being splashed with cold water.

The shape of it reminded her of a giant owl, hunched, triangular, menacing and unblinkingly observing. Her mouth was still trying to create the sound of Link's name, but now she felt that it would transform into nothing but silence. Her throat was hurting as if she was choking.

The shadow saw its opportunity. It spread like the mantle of a lunging vampire, like the wings of a bat. It swallowed all and came at her before her mind could comprehend the danger she was in. Despite there being nothing but black, the one thing she saw was a gaping Cheshire Cat smile, silently laughing and colliding into her.

Her eyes shot open. She was lying flat on her back, hands pressed down over the blanket and her mouth open, craving air. Oxygen entered her lungs. Her eyelids began to flutter from opened to closed and back again, like the desperate flapping of a bird's wing, trying to keep her from plunging down into shock.

Zelda remembered. She had been having the same dream for months now. Link struggling for his life to break free from his chains – to get away from her and fleeing away into a shadow – and never responding. The difference from other times was that up until now he had never been successful. She felt cold despite the warmth of her bed. She had taken too long to do what the foreboding dreams had required of her, and now they were pressing their point.

Her hands grasped feverishly at her blanket, her eyes blinked at the ceiling where the enlarged brick pattern was dissolving into a blurry mass. She realized that she had woken up from a deep sleep. One that would not let go of her. She had only reached the surface long enough to take one breath and now she was sinking back into the ocean of dreams. She stretched her arms, barely finding the strength to lift them, towards the white ceiling in hope of finding something to grasp at that could pull her up, but there was nothing. What if sleep made her forget? What if the time had run out? She had to see Link this very moment. No matter the late hour. Nothing else would bring peace to her mind.

But her arms fell down. Her exhausting efforts would not even allow her to utter a sound before consciousness slipped away from her and left her in humiliating defeat. Sleep had always been a cruel master to her.

* * *

_Knock, knock. _

What was this pounding feeling? A pulsing headache that knocked on her skull. Her fingers found their way through thick masses of hair and she held her head with eyes shut tightly. It helped somewhat, and she rolled over onto her side and snuggled down deeper under the covers as the sounds ebbed away. A soft feeling of clouds was left tickling her mind, beckoning her to remember something important. Now, what had she been thinking before she fell asleep? Had she been dreaming? Just as she thought that she was safe to remove her hands, and stretch like a cat waking up from a nap, the sound of knocks hit her eardrums once again.

Zelda threw off the blanket and sat up, trying to blink away the daylight burning her eyes. There was someone at her door? Few woke up earlier than she did, so why this sudden visit? She scrambled out of bed, groaning when her muscles ached as if she had just woken up after a tough workout, albeit the most straining thing she had done yesterday was reading a book.

The princess staggered away from the bed, almost tripping over her long nightgown. The day could not be said to have even begun, but everything felt off. Was the room not a lot brighter than usual? The sunlight poured past the see-through curtains. She turned around and peered at the jumbled sheets, also off because she was not one to toss around in her sleep. Pressing a palm to her forehead, she fumbled after the alarm clock posted on her desk. It faced her bed because she liked the time to be the first thing she saw when she woke up, and she did not plan on missing out on that habit. She needed order, and was quite fond of the convenient little invention. One of her first purchases.

The knocks, now quicker and harder, shook her calm again.

Link. It suddenly struck her. That dream again? The web and her childhood friend's struggle, and – what more – she had wanted him to stay trapped? There was something important that she needed to do. That much she could remember. Nayru, was it Link outside her room? Say that it was. No one else would search her out first thing in the morning. Could the dream have meant that now was the time to act? This was the crucial moment where she could no longer let Link get away without an explanation.

Zelda tried to piece her memories together, tried to catch the ones that evaded her like feathers in the wind, while she hurried to the door. "Coming, coming," she said, tearing the robe that was part of a set with her nightgown off its hanger on the wardrobe door. Since it was Link, covering up with the robe would do, even though at home she would have been scolded to be seen in only her nightwear, or with her hair loose.

"I am so sorry. Did I keep you waiting?" she gasped when she, bent over and trying to fix the knot that kept her robe closed, opened the door to greet Link. What she found outside in place of her friend, however, was a pretty bewildered prince of Altea. Marth's eyes widened as he pulled back in surprise. The light ochre tone of his skin took on a pale tint of red and his lips parted, probably to reprimand her, before the door was slammed in his face by the screaming princess.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," her mind chanted when she pressed her back to the door. He could not have been able to peek down her nighty from that angle? No, no, no. Her hair had been all over the place too, hanging over her face. She had almost tripped out the door with little to no grace. Why was he here?

She sighed and pushed some hair out of the way. It was most urgent that she saw Link as soon as possible. Not even the time it took for a polite refusal to see Marth could be wasted, but what could she do?

She hurried away from the door and used her hands to comb her hair, ripping a hair ribbon from the dressing table to tie it into a ponytail. With exaggerated force she pulled her robe closed, as tightly as she could, and made her white silky nightgown completely invisible. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, checked her hair one last time and swallowed deeply before she grabbed the door handle once more.

"Prince Marth, what can I do for you?" the princess said and crossed her arms. Marth's expression was the exact same as before he had got a door thrown in his face. His gaze had stayed on the very same spot where she had disappeared and reappeared in the blink of an eye. Zelda doubted that he could stretch his neck any more than he was doing without looking as if he was practicing limbo. Then he finally shook his head and looked into her eyes, with the usual down to earth presence in his gaze.

"How come you are not dressed? I assumed that you were planning on having a late breakfast to have more time getting ready, but I can see that Princess Peach did the right thing when she sent me to check on you. Have you forgotten that we are to attend the meeting regarding the prophet issue? We need to leave in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" she echoed in disbelief. Unable to utter another word, her expression asked him to deny it. But he frowned at the confused darting movements of her pupils and leant in closer to whisper, "is there anything I should know about? You don't usually sleep in late."

Her breath was uneven when she grabbed the side of the door. "No, I'm fine. I'll be there in a minute. I'll just..." She closed the door.

Zelda thanked her strict upbringing for forcing out the habit to plan ahead. She picked up the dress and the jewelery that she had put out neatly the night before in a big bundle and pushed the door open with her shoulder. The small effort alone made her sigh. A sigh that was drawn out when she found the prince was still there waiting for her.

"Marth, I'm fine," she repeated. She brushed by him and headed towards the bathroom, but the sound of his footfalls followed her and soon he was at her side. She kept her gaze nailed to the floor, as did he.

"Princess Zelda, you really shouldn't..." Marth started, but hearing what his tacky breath did to his voice made him fall silent. He scratched his nose, taking a sneak peak at the girl beside him. "The women are in a painstakingly clear minority here. You should realize what the odds are that there is a man knocking on your door," he said, scowling at her. "Zelda," he added, dropping the title.

"I thought it was Link," she said. Both knew that the prince would not come with any reply to that.

When Zelda finally looked up she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the line leading to the bathroom. It took a moment or two for her to realize that she was not up early enough to avoid the chaos that most of the other inhabitants of the building had to deal with every single morning.

"Oh, no," she whispered, but then set her jaw and approached the other Smashers. "Pardon," she said and waited until she had their attention, which took three repeats of her excuse. "There is a rather pressuring matter at hand, and I have not a moment to spare. Would it be too much trouble if I received priority for this?"

She could not help but to scan the queue for any sign of Link as she spoke. Her gaze swept over Fox, the leader of the Star Fox mercenary team that Falco was also a part of, Mr. Game and Watch, who looked like a cutout of black paper, Pikachu, the electric mouse Pokémon with its long rabbit-like ear,. Luigi, the little brother of the famous Mario, Captain Falcon, as always wearing his red racing helmet with the golden falcon in the front. Several more familiar faces, but no Link.

"You need to stand in line like everybody else," Falcon said, the sharp lights that were in place of his eyes behind the dark visor drilling through her. The intense gazes of the rest agreed.

Zelda pressed the bundle of clothes closer to her body, feeling the men's eyes on her. They had all lived under the same roof long enough for her to know that she was far from a lamb in a wolves' den – add that her nighty was more modest than the average casual wear. It was still an unsettling feeling. She collected herself enough to explain her matter more thoroughly and ask them again when Marth sidestepped in front of her.

The prince's long turquoise mantle effectively shielded her. Zelda could picture the frown on his face and hard gaze, but other than that he looked less than ready for a fight. He was dressed up for the formal meeting, wearing less armor than usual. His blue tunic was replaced by a longer garment – alike its predecessor rimmed with gold, but with more complex embroideries. Unbuttoned from the waist down in the front, it also had long open slits on the sides, which disappeared underneath the brown cummerbund and belt.

The queuing Smashers all eyed Marth's new appearance with great interest. The length of the coat-like garment in particular. There were a couple of exchanged glances. Unintentional smiles that made the corners of their mouths twitch. They all seemed to say the same thing: "_Nice dress_."

"Now, let's all behave as gentlemen. Ladies first," Marth said, his hand resting on the head of Falchion's golden hilt. The sword and his diadem were the only things from his regular outfit spared from being replaced, as their sentimental value was too great.

"Is that _silk?_" Fox said, ignoring Marth like everyone else did, and as usual having an eye for anything worth a decent sum of money. People was leaning to the side to have a better look of the shimmering quality of the fabric, and Marth raised his chin with heating cheeks and lips pressed together.

"Well, don't you look all dressed up for the ball," Captain Falcon added to Fox's observation.

"Did you do anything with your hair?

"It's so shiny."

"More than usual."

"Is that perfume I smell?"

"Cologne," Marth snapped.

Zelda held back a smile. Six mere insults before he lost his temper. If Marth bothered to reply – it was too much bogus to be paid any attention – they must have hit a nerve. Was this truly the same man who always let silence speak no matter how upset he was?

"Ooh, cologne," Fox said and the men nodded at each other, repeating the word amongst themselves. They showed no sign to tire of it and Marth was pressing his lips harder together until they were turning blue. His hand was closing tighter around his sword, his knuckles whitening.

"Who's your escort? Roy?"

"Silence!" Marth roared and unsheathed his weapon. Zelda barely had the time to see the others' eyes light up before they all disappeared in a cloud of dust. She shook her head. They enjoyed brawling too much. Marth emerged long enough to make a nod at the deserted bathroom door and she mouthed a "thank you" before she snuck inside.

* * *

The bundle in her arms dropped onto the floor. Zelda walked over to the shower, wriggling her dressing gown off her shoulders and it easily slid off her arms and floated to the floor without a sound. The nightgown and underwear followed suit, before she stepped inside the shower and shut the sliding door of frosted glass.

Zelda freed her hair from the ponytail. The blonde locks snaked themselves down her body, but she was quick to tie them up again in a topknot. If she got her hair wet she would most definitely be late. Although, even if she skipped shampoo and conditioner there would not be any time over to see Link. She turned the tap and cold water drizzled like beads of ice onto her skin. She shuddered and wrapped her free arm, the other clenching the shower nozzle, around herself. If only she was a bit more forceful. Why had she not been more persistent in being there for Link when she could tell that he needed her? And now it might be too late. Talk about finding oneself between a rock and a hard place. This meeting would never be allowed to be put aside.

Slowly the water turned hot and engulfed her in a soothing warmth. The steam rose around her and condensed onto the glass. Was she worrying about nothing? It would not do to let anguish ruin the whole day when Link would most likely be the first person to greet her when she got back. A lot more at ease, she grabbed the towel hanging over the glass door and dried herself as she stepped out. Right – it was already decided that she would attend the meeting, so why waste her energy on something she could do nothing about? The first thing she would do once she returned was talk to Link.

Zelda stroked her hands down the white skirt that weighted on her hips and spread out towards the floor. This dress gave off a more formal impression than her usual pastel pink one did, although the wider skirt was a hassle. She grunted as it got in the way when she picked the lavender-colored bodice off the floor. She exited the bathroom and nodded at the men that were now busy getting back in an organized line without starting a second fight.

"You have my thanks, gentlemen," she said, and a couple of distracted smiles and waves responded. Even though a few looked more carefully, she got away without any remarks on getting ahead in line. It was a wonder what a friendly fight could do in this house. Well, so long as they were in a good mood, and she had hurried as not to let them wait.

The princess only made a quick stop when she passed her room, the first one on top of the stairs, and threw her things on the floor in a very "un-princessy" manner. No one would enter, so it was fine. But the ugly pile haunted her thoughts all the way down the stairs. Perhaps she should at least have put it on the bed? It was a shame that the folded robe ended up on the floor. No, no, she did not have the time to turn around now. She was late.

* * *

Peach was brushing off Marth's cape, fixing his hair and the angle of the diadem, when Zelda entered the living room. Whether one liked it or not, the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom – pretty as ever – was the first thing for one's eyes to land on, and this in spite of her standing just by the not all too visible entrance hall. The increase in frills and ribbons covering her dress made her more noticeable than if she had eaten a Mega Mushroom.

"Really, Marth, how unlike you to get into such a silly fight. When you were looking so nice too," Peach said, clasping his face between her gloved hands. He gently removed them, leaving her fingers brushing his cheeks.

"It was very foolish of me, Princess," he said. "Please, forgive me."

"I hope that I did not keep you waiting," Zelda cut in. She filled up the one narrow space in the circle of nobles. Besides Peach and Marth there was also the Koopa king Bowser, the young Marquess of Pherae Roy and the Gerudo leader Ganondorf.

"Not at all," Roy ensured her.

"You're just in time Zelda, on the dot as always, and, my, you look stunning," Peach said, swirling around and her many layers of skirts nearly pushing Marth over when they collided into him.

"Thank you, you look beautiful too," Zelda replied and turned to the others. "Then, shall we?"

Bowser, who had been tapping his foot the whole time, bounced over to the door and ripped it open, sending splinters flying as his claws got in contact with more than just the door handle. "Here you go, Peach. You should be grateful," he said, flashing his pointy teeth in a wide grin aimed at the princess. "I don't open the door for just anyone, y'know."

"How nice," Peach said, giving the large Koopa a side-glance as she passed him. The irony was cold enough to make icicles shake and her usual sweetness was gone with an arctic wind. Marth was about to follow her, but Bowser was quicker, and Marth gagged and skidded to a halt when his face ended up inches away from being pierced by the spikes on the back of Bowser's shell. It might have been for the best that the prince remained still, as even though he had been spared from the spikes he would have been knocked to the floor by the door Bowser threw shut had he walked on.

Marth sighed and opened the door again, in a much more elegant manner than the Koopa had. With his head lowered, he stepped to the side and gestured out. "My lady."

"Thank you," Zelda said and nodded at him as she walked past.

Ganondorf turned towards the door, his amber eyes following the Hylian. The hatred in that gaze, which stuck to the princess, was ancient, as if the sight of her turned amber back into golden resin. He lowered his chin, the fiery red eyebrows drowning his eyes in deep shadows and baring the forehead like a charging bull aiming its horns at its prey. He made an attempt to follow her but Marth stuck a foot in-between and slid into the space. The prince's size was a pitiful comparison to that of the Gerudo but that did not stop him from making a dismissive toss with his cape before he walked after Zelda. Ganondorf lingered in the doorway, not the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth betraying what thoughts ran through his mind in that moment.

Roy was quick to scurry after when Ganondorf finally approached the car that was waiting for them. The young lord climbed inside, in a hurry to avoid leaving the rest waiting. His swift step caused his foot to hit the frame and he stumbled onto the seat. He closed the door and grinned while he repositioned himself and his gaze darted to and fro between the others.

"It was a nice surprise to have you join us, Roy," Peach said and the young man smiled at her. The soft drone of the engine sounded, and Peach's body swayed when the car took off with a jerky start across the gravel yard.

"I did not have to come," Roy admitted and tugged at one of his fingerless gloves. There was something apologetic to his voice when he added, "it would be enough if the Marquess of Ostia represented the Lycian League, as its leader. The rest of us can always be informed later. But as it is now, Ostia is going through some rough times of change. Lord Hector of Ostia recently passed away and..." Roy frowned. His hands that were locked together tightened their grip around each other, like a petty replacement for a reassuring hug. He lowered his head with a sigh and his messy red bangs fell down over his headband and hid his expression. He had not wanted to lower the mood, and it was not long before he sat up straight again with a smile, although it did not reach his eyes. Peach lowered her head, sensing the unspoken. These political issues were too complex, too close and too private to share as chitchat during a drive.

"Didn't have to come?" Bowser snorted and broke the glum silence. "Do they let half-nobles like you in at all? This meeting's for royalties, ain't it?"

"Somebody from Lycia has to come," Roy said, trying to keep his voice under control. His hands flew apart and were balled into fists at his sides when he turned to glare at the Bowser who was sitting one step away from him. "We are an alliance without a king, but we're as much of a nation as everyone else."

"Let's not forget the republics," Marth added. He had been sitting with folded arms and eyes closed the whole time, and looked like he intended to stay that way.

"And Roy is more of a noble than you are," Peach cut in. It was a difficult task to injure Bowser with words – his ego was bigger and harder to pierce than his shell – but he was also very careful to listen to everything Peach had to say. Her remark made his face crunch into a grimace and a growling sound left his mouth. Peach interpreted it as him objecting, and that called for insult added to injury. "You're worse than that Dedede person they've talked about on the news. You're just walking around my kingdom causing trouble and calling yourself king."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I was chosen fair and square by my minions, and I do lots of good stuff for the Mushroom Kingdom. It's just that you never invite me to any meetings, or you'd know about that Bowser Theatre I'm installing in my castle."

"It's hardly as if I can keep you away," Peach retorted. "You always barge in, wrecking _my_ castle in the process."

"Wrecking it? I'm always taking good care of that murky ol' castle. I've just moved it around a couple of times. And what do I get for that?"

"Oh, that is far from the truth, but never mind. You should not judge Roy like that when you have a lesser right to attend this assembly."

"If Mario hadn't ruined my latest plan to take over the Mushroom Kingdom you'd be the one not invited."

"Zelda!" Peach said, turning to her friend on her left for assistance. "He's just avoiding the issue."

Zelda's gaze jumped between the other passengers. Bowser's nostrils flared, a puff of thin air leaving them. Her eyes were quick to leave him and stay on Ganondorf and she moistened her lips before she spoke.

"Part of our task is to reach out to people with the width of our influence. We are different, and our cultures are different, but we all share a great responsibility. It's the same in Hyrule. The races are too different for one to expect that the Hylian royal family will gain trust and support from all. The peoples all have their own leaders – there are even monarchies within our monarchy – and we cooperate to create a situation that will satisfy everyone," Zelda said, choosing her words with care. Ganondorf wrinkled his nose and his eyes turned into narrow slits as she spoke. The whole time, the princess appeared to be facing him, although her voice and eyes were addressing everybody. "And we must never forget the outlaws," Zelda added in a darker tone and locked eyes with Ganondorf. "Shunning them will leave a growing hatred for them to feed on, and us unprepared for it. We may not easily abridge the rift between us, but neither can we deny that there is one. That is why, when we are gathering for a meeting of this scale, the Hyruleans will stand united with one representative while the Gerudos will send their own. No matter if we stand together or alone, no one should be left out. Roy has every right to attend, and so does Bowser."

They let her words sink in along with the graveness of the matter. Bowser scratched his head and looked out of the window while the rest remained in deep thought. The only thing he cared to register was that his presence was justified.

The limousine slowed down and the increasing noise from the outside awoke the rest from their pondering. The car came to a soft halt, but the tension and tumult around sent tremors through the nobles as if the ground was shaking and the car along with it. As soon as the door opened flashes from cameras went off and light filled up their view. Peach put down one of her high heeled shoes and lifted her skirt as she stepped out first. This was her world, more than anyone else's, and she waved at the crowd as she walked a few steps down the red carpet, giving the others a few extra second to collect themselves.

Roy hurried to Peach's side, a grin on his face while he tried to blink the blinding flashes away. He walked with some generous space between them and gave the journalists a confident nod, but Peach thought she saw him swallowing. Before Roy could react she linked her arm through his and pulled him to her. Roy gaped at her, his widened eyes moving the the lens of a camera that was dangerously closed to being shoved up their faces, but Peach blew the camera a kiss and pulled Roy away.

Zelda took a moment to look up the building and it felt as if she could tilt her head back no further to get a good view of it. The Parliament Building of Magnavox was an impressive sight, indeed. Society had run away from this aged building. Skyscrapers rose above it. Roads for hovercraft were crossing the sky above their roofs, and even higher were airborne vehicles. It still stood pure white and tall, preserved and cared for.

Buildings like this one; she lived for the same reasons they were built. Most of the time her own interest would coincide with what duty demanded. Not now. Link did not deserve to be pulled into yet another dangerous play by destiny. It hurt inside her to remember the time it had taken for him to recover from the fight with Ganondorf. She had tried to give him his childhood back but he had been too restless and unable to settle down to fully enjoy it, and yet he had always smiled at her. She owed him more than she could ever repay, and it hurt. She owed him as the princess of the land he had saved and as a friend.

If her dreams were connected to what they were supposed to discuss here, was it the right thing to let a chance of taking preventive actions slip her by? Her intellect, her heart, every part of her being wanted to return to Link.

"Zelda?" Marth could only whisper her name, making sure that no one heard. His eyes were bluer than the water of Lake Hylia, the most calming and beautiful lake Zelda knew. If anything, it made her feel less like staying here. "You're the sole heir to the throne of Hyrule. There is no one who can replace you," he said and her reply got stuck in her throat. She did not like to think of what a lonely position she was in. "I know that it can be a burden, but then you should turn to me. We are monarchs before we are anything else. Don't forget that it also means that I am your ally."

Marth walked ahead a few steps down the red carpet and turned to see if she was coming. She forced her feet to move and she thought she knew what Marth had meant to say.

_Don't think of him. Was that it?_

* * *

A/N

I have always found dreams fascinating. In a way, it is frightening to think about how easily we might become victims to ourselves. Dreams make a vivid example of how can we fool ourselves into believing the most ridiculous of things, and then, the following question, what about the less obvious traps (like assumptions and prejudice) in real life?

Maybe my interest helped me write the beginning of this chapter, because the rest of it felt difficult in comparison. One thing I hate is when my thoughts go like this: That dream must make Zelda oversleep or else she will see Link and she is not supposed to. If she oversleeps she will have trouble getting into the bathroom and she has to. That means I have to add something about that, and about her being in the bathroom or else it will come out choppy. Then she can meet up with the others and they can... wait, there are characters that I have not yet introduced. Then I must introduce them... And so the words pile up and we are left with this chapter. What about Link? We found out nothing!

Oh, and thank you dear reviewers for making my day(s). You are so wonderful and deserve quicker updates! I am so happy to see that there are people who share my pity for Link, and I would gladly help to shoo the evil being away (away, away, I say!). And I would so love for another confrontation between Link and Marth (that will have to be in a future chapter!). Great suggestion. Anyone hating Marth yet?

And I stand by what I've said. Marth and Zelda are just good friends. Well, but very close friends.

Thank you for the reviews and thanks for reading.


End file.
